As the car came to a complete stop, Jolanda, who was riding in the front seat beside her mother, threw open the door, calling out greetings to her cousins. Emilee’s hand shot across and grabbed her arm. Baby Nikolaus was seated between them. “Jo, take Niko and don’t let go of his hand. This is a busy street.” She turned and looked into the back seat. “Rikki. Hans Otto, you help Jo watch him.”
As Jolanda picked up her little brother, she nuzzled him with her nose and made him giggle. The “baby” was a delight to the whole family, but he had a habit of darting away like a shot any time he saw something that caught his attention. He required the constant supervision of someone responsible.
Inga watched all this and felt a prayer of gratitude rise up in her heart. Thank thee, O Lord, for the wondrous gift of family.
Emilee too was watching as her children piled out of the car and raced off to join the others. She turned to her mother-in-law in the back seat. “You would think it had been a year since they last saw each other.”
Inga nodded. “I love it that they are such good friends.” She sighed. “I just wish we had two more here with us.”
Emilee shook her head. “Lisa will be back with us at the end of the summer, but I don’t think we will ever see Hans join the Church. That would be an incredible miracle. But I am so thankful that he doesn’t fight me on this any longer. Several sisters in the branch have husbands who fight them on everything related to the Latter-day Saints. Hans may not agree with our choice, but he doesn’t resent it anymore.”
Inga was nodding thoughtfully as they got out of the car. “Do you know what he admitted to me the other day?”
“What?”
“That he liked what being Mormon was doing for your children—for his children.”
Emilee was astonished. “He said that to you?”
“He did. He was a little sheepish about it, but he clearly meant it.”
Emilee’s eyes were suddenly misty. “Wow! That is something.”
“Sorry that I raised such a stubborn son,” Inga said. Then she linked arms with her daughter-in-law and they started toward where the rest of the family was in the midst of a happy reunion.
As they approached, Inga stopped, pulling free. Emilee stopped too. Inga was looking at the group just ahead of them, but there were tears in her eyes now. “What is it, Mama Inga?”
Inga smiled through the tears and gestured toward the group just ahead of them. “If you count Paula and her two youngest, do you realize that we now have seventeen of us who are members of the Church?”
That took Emilee aback for a moment, and she counted quickly in her mind. “What about Heinz-Albert? Wouldn’t that make eighteen? And my mother. She joined before she passed away. So nineteen.”
“My goodness. How could I forget them?” Emilee’s younger brother was there with the crowd waiting on the sidewalk. He was one of the children in some ways, though he was in his early thirties now. But mentally he was about fourteen years of age. He now lived with Emilee’s older brother, Ernst Fromme, and his wife, Landra, and their children. They were not members, but because Heinz-Albert loved church and the friends he had made there so much, they faithfully brought him each Sunday. After church, they would come and pick him up again.
Paula’s husband, Wolfie Groll, would also come to get his family. Then they would all pile into their cars and head for one of their homes—today it would be Emilee’s—and have a family dinner for all. Sunday family dinner with the extended family had become a tradition and was Inga’s favorite part of the week.
“And to think that all of this came about because Tante Paula introduced you to Elder Reissner and his companion,” Emilee said.
“And gave me a Book of Mormon.” Inga’s mind went back to that night the missionaries had come to her home and she had asked them to baptize her. How that had changed everything for her. She brightened as an idea came to her. “Emilee, let’s write the Reissners tonight and thank them again for what they did.”
“And the Westlands too,” Emilee said. “If they hadn’t come here in twenty-two and taken us to the Passion Play in Oberammergau, I’m not sure I would have joined the Church.”
“Yes! The Westlands too. We need to ask them if they are still planning on coming back for the centennial production of the Passion Play in 1934.” Though the play was normally put on only once a decade—in years ending with zeros—1934 was the three hundredth anniversary of the original play, and so there would be a “jubilee” performance.
“I doubt that,” Emilee replied. “They were going to come in 1930, but with the stock market crash of twenty-nine, they had to cancel. And things have only gotten worse. But definitely, let’s ask them.” She smiled. “If prayers make a difference, Lisa will pray them here so she can see Benji again.”
Inga laughed. “It’s amazing that they are still writing to each other. It’s been ten years now. And Alisa was not quite four then, right?”
Emilee nodded. “Did you see that she keeps that photograph he sent in his last letter taped to her mirror?”
Now Inga’s eyes were soft. “Yes, and hasn’t be become a handsome young man? But, I think it was that edelweiss that Lisa sent home with him. ‘Friends forever.’ That’s the promise.”
They were nearing the group now, and Anna, Inga’s youngest daughter, broke away from the others and came over to meet them. “We need to hurry or all the seats will be gone.”
“Oh?” Emilee said. “Why is that?”
Anna shot her an incredulous look. “You haven’t heard? President Borkhardt is down from Nuremberg. He has brought a message from our mission president and Elder John A. Widtsoe, the Apostle from Salt Lake City.”
Inga stopped dead. “An Apostle is going to speak to us?”
Anna chuckled, “No, Mama. Elder Widtsoe is in England. But he has given President Borkhardt a message to deliver to us. This is so exciting.”
Inga tugged them forward. “Then what are we waiting for?”
1:23 p.m.
The upper dining room of the Empress Hotel, known as the Crown Room, was large and spacious, and the fifty or so chairs set up for the meeting filled only the front part of the room. As the members of the Aaronic Priesthood returned the pitchers and glass cups used for the sacrament to the sacrament table, Emilee was thinking of the first meeting she had come to with Inga and Paula several years before. It had been on the top floor of a restaurant called the Golden Onion, or something like that. She had been taken by surprise. It was the first time she had ever been to a church in a place where you had to empty the ashtrays and pick up the empty beer steins before you could start the services. But all of that had quickly been forgotten as the spirit of the meeting had permeated her soul.
Now the white tablecloth had been replaced over the sacrament table, and the boys returned to sit with their families. President Oskar Schlesinger, president of the Munich Branch, got to his feet and came to the podium. He thanked the boys for their help and the congregation for their reverence and then went on. “Brothers and sisters, as indicated at the start of this meeting, we have a guest with us today. It is President Fritz Borkhardt, president of the Nuremberg District, of which our branch is a part. He is here by assignment from President Oliver Budge, our mission president, and he also brings a message from Elder John A. Widtsoe, who presides over the Church in Europe.”
Every eye turned to the man seated directly behind the podium.
Their visitor was different from their branch president in many ways. President Schlesinger was tall, quite handsome, and had thick, glossy-black hair that he combed straight back from his forehead. He was the schoolmaster at a private school in Schwabing, and he spoke like one, using clipped, precise tones. Though quite formal in his demeanor, he was beloved by the branch members.
President Borkhardt was much shorter, five or six inches at least. He had a slight paunc
h and his shoulders tended to slouch. His hair was rapidly thinning and combed forward, as if he were trying to conceal the spreading baldness. He had a farmer’s tan, with a clear line across his forehead. Obviously, he worked out of doors a great deal and wore a hat when he did so. On the surface, he seemed to be a plain and ordinary man. But his eyes, which were a light brown, were the kindest eyes that Emilee had ever seen.
President Schlesinger was continuing. “President Borkhardt has asked that I keep this introduction brief, so I will say only this much: President Borkhardt is a third-generation Latter-day Saint. His grandparents were converted back in the 1870s in Stuttgart. When the American missionaries were called home in the summer of 1914, he became the president of his branch in Nuremberg. He was nineteen at the time. He served there for a year before being conscripted into the Navy during the Great War. There he became a decorated war hero. When he returned home after the war, he was called to serve a full-time mission in Germany. Even though conditions in the country were very difficult, he answered the call. On his return home, he was called to be branch president again, and he served for nine years. He was released when he was made district president three years ago.”
President Schlesinger turned and glanced back. “President Borkhardt, we are grateful to have you with us. The podium is now yours.”
The man from Nuremberg looked up, almost as if surprised, and then stood. He shook hands with President Schlesinger and laid his papers down on the podium. He removed a handkerchief from his coat pocket, took off his eyeglasses, and began to polish them absently.
“I can see that President Schlesinger and I need to be more precise in defining the meaning of the word brief,” he began with a twinkle in his eye.
That won him a ripple of amusement from the congregation and a huge grin from President Schlesinger. He let it die and then went on. “My dear brothers and sisters, I am honored to be here with you on this beautiful summer day. As President Schlesinger has indicated, I come by assignment. Recently, Elder Widtsoe sent a letter to all mission presidents in Europe. It was filled with much wise counsel, instruction, and direction for members of the Church in the numerous countries over which he presides. In response to that letter, President Budge, president of the German-Austrian Mission, held a meeting with all district presidencies in the mission and shared with them what Elder Widtsoe had said. President Budge asked that we share key elements of that message in all of our branches, so I am here today to fulfill that assignment.”
He let his eyes slowly move across the congregation. “I came in by train, arriving last evening. I have enjoyed the warm hospitality of the Schlesingers, who have told me much about you. After hearing their report, I must say that I was so impressed with what you have been doing here, I was strongly tempted to simply commend you for your service and return home.”
That somewhat startled the audience, and a soft murmur of disappointment filled the hall. As it did so, a droll smile stole across his face. “But realizing that in spite of your many wonderful accomplishments, you have not yet achieved complete perfection, I shall proceed as I was requested to do.”
This time laughter filled the hall. Paula leaned across Inga and spoke to Emilee and Anna. “I like him. I like him very much.” All three nodded in agreement.
President Borkhardt picked up the top sheet of his papers, perused it for a moment, and then laid it back down again. “As you all very well know,” he began, “we are living in difficult times. And we have been doing so here in the Fatherland for twenty years now. I wish I could tell you that it will soon be over. But the world is in the grip of a terrible depression, and there is much suffering and misery because of it. Currently, our rate of unemployment is at its highest point since those years immediately following the Great War. President Schlesinger tells me that about a third of your heads of household are without work. The government is predicting that as the depression deepens, that rate will likely go as high as thirty-five percent of the working population.”
More murmurs, but no one was shocked. They read the papers too.
But then President Borkhardt smiled. It was warm and open and filled with love. “Yes, my brothers and sisters, these are grim things to speak of, but. . . .” His chin came up as his eyes bored into the crowd. “But we, as Latter-day Saints, are not a people of despair. We are a people of hope. We are a people of faith. And we firmly believe in the words of Paul, the Apostle: ‘If God be with us, who can be against us?’ So, my dear brothers and sisters, I come with a message of hope and optimism. I am here to testify to you that our leaders, while gravely concerned for the state of our people, are not pessimistic. The Church is strong in Germany and is thriving even as our nation struggles.”
He lifted the sheet again and glanced at it. “Did you know, for example, that in the early twenties, the Swiss-German Mission was the highest baptizing mission in the world?”
Some nodded; others were amazed. Emilee had not heard that and felt a great surge of pride.
President Borkhardt went on. “And did you know that even with the thousands of our members who have emigrated to America, we still have one of the largest congregations of Latter-day Saints anywhere outside of the state of Utah?”
Obviously few had heard that, for everyone was looking at each other in amazement. He smiled and went right on, more gently now. “And here are just a few other things that should fill our hearts with gratitude. Just three years ago, the national government gave the Church permission to organize our own troops of LDS Boy Scouts, which we have now done all across Germany. It has become a tremendous boon to our young men. In 1928, we constructed the first LDS chapel in Germany, in Selbongen. We expect that trend to continue as local congregations grow in numbers and merit having their own church buildings. The Church has been in Germany since 1851. Eighty years in the country and only now have we constructed our first chapel. It will not be the last.
“For all of the suffering and sorrow the depression has brought, it has a bright side as well. Hard times are humbling peoples’ hearts, and many are turning to the Lord for help. We have more and more new friends attending our meetings all the time. And baptisms are coming in at an amazing rate.”
President Borkhardt was perspiring a little in the heat of the room, so he took out his handkerchief and wiped at his forehead as he continued. “Just two years ago, under the inspired vision of Elder Widtsoe, we participated in the national exposition on health and wellness. A full presentation was created teaching the benefits of the Word of Wisdom. Thousands of visitors came to our pavilion. Professional people from all over the world commented favorably on our efforts to preserve human health. We distributed about 250,000 pamphlets. It was so successful that we held the event again last year, giving out another 100,000 tracts. Thus far, 2,252 people have asked for more information about the Church. And the positive publicity has helped open government doors to our missionaries in several locations.”
He paused for a moment and then went on. “And here is another remarkable thing—a miracle, in my opinion. As we all know, when all American missionaries were called home at the outbreak of the Great War, we were left with only a handful of native missionaries to carry on the work. Because America was our enemy in the war, it took until 1922 before the government allowed missionaries from the U.S. to return. In that eight-year interim, our faithful members, both brothers and sisters, continued the missionary work.
“Now, my brothers and sisters, our American missionaries are back. In fact, I see that we have two with us in the hall today.”
All heads turned to look at the two young men on the back row. They raised their hands and waved.
“But,” President Borkhardt went on, “during those eight years, something significant happened. President Budge told us that currently he has—” His breath caught and his head lowered. Emilee saw his Adam’s apple bob twice as he tried to get control of his emotions. When he finally l
ooked up, his eyes were glistening. “He told us that before the war, about ninety percent of the missionaries here in the Fatherland were from the United States. Today, President Budge has almost three hundred missionaries in the German-Austrian Mission. One hundred thirty-eight of those missionaries are from the United States of America, but—”
He stopped again as people all around gave low cries of amazement. Then he thundered out, “But one hundred and fifty-two are native Germans, Swiss, or Austrians!”
He waited until the outburst quieted somewhat, and then triggered another one when he added, “And that is the largest percentage of native missionaries serving in any non-U.S. mission in the Church!”
He stepped back, making no attempt to quiet the reaction. He was proud to share that data with them, and he was glad they felt that pride too.
When it finally quieted, he went on. “Before the war, many of the leadership positions of our districts and branches here in the Fatherland were held by those same American missionaries. For years it was felt that our local brethren needed more experience in Church leadership, so they served under these American missionaries. But during the war, that was no longer the case. So what happened in ’22, when the Yanks began to return? Was the leadership turned back over to them again?”
He didn’t wait for a response. “Yes, it was.” Then he held up a finger to cut off the disappointed response. “But only in very small branches where they didn’t have sufficient priesthood holders qualified to serve. Do you understand what I am saying? The Church did not fall apart when the American missionaries had to leave, as some predicted it would.”
Out of the Smoke Page 3
